


it's for your health

by icoulddothisallday, TetrodotoxinB



Series: MCU Kink Bingo 2017 [20]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Sex, Bingo square: Enemas, D/s AU, Dom!Bucky, Enema Kink, Enemas, M/M, Schmoop, sub!Steve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-22
Updated: 2017-12-22
Packaged: 2019-02-18 08:29:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13096296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icoulddothisallday/pseuds/icoulddothisallday, https://archiveofourown.org/users/TetrodotoxinB/pseuds/TetrodotoxinB
Summary: A doctor prescribed enema leads Steve and Bucky to an interesting discovery. And sex.Part of a greater D/s AU.





	it's for your health

**Author's Note:**

> Beta'd by the utterly fabulous [farkenshnoffingottom](http://archiveofourown.org/users/farkenshnoffingottom/pseuds/farkenshnoffingottom).

“Steve, you know what the doctor said. You can’t keep ignoring it just because you don’t like doing it.” Bucky could scream. Steve is being unreasonable about something relatively simple and easy. Bucky  _ knows  _ it’s not any fun, but they don’t fuck around with Steve’s health.

Steve groans and rolls his eyes, making a face. “Bucky, it doesn’t really help. It’s pointless and weird and  _ disgusting _ .”

“Steve, you don’t get to make those decisions. The doc said you had to, so you damn well are. Do I need to make this an order? Because if I do, there will be consequences. Honestly, I’m still deciding if you should be grounded for hiding the damn bag,” Bucky threatens. He doesn’t have any patience for Steve hiding  _ anything  _ related to his health. It’s one of their most important rules. 

Steve sighs, looking put out. “Fine. I’ll do it. Just gimme a minute to warm the water first.”

Bucky nods sternly and sits down at the table, watching Steve heat a small pot of water on the stove. It doesn’t take long for Steve to turn the stove off, pour the water into the rubber bag, and make his way to the bedroom. Neither of them are unfamiliar with the process — there’s been times that Steve’s been sick enough that he needed Bucky’s help, and they’ve long since figured out that it’s a worthwhile thing to do before they play.  

Bucky busies himself in the kitchen preparing their meager dinner while he waits, purposefully making enough noise that Steve can have some semblance of privacy, despite the too-thin walls.  

He doesn’t get too far into the dinner preparations before Steve emerges looking uncomfortable and angry. 

“I’ll be back in a minute,” Steve grumbles. Bucky chuckles to himself at the sight of Steve’s very uncomfortable gait. 

It’s fifteen minutes later when Bucky has got everything in the pot on the stove that he realizes Steve is still gone. Worry flashing through him, he turns off the stove and heads down the hall to the bathroom on their floor. Steve is standing outside it, sweating and looking _wrecked._

Bucky tries to ignore the way Steve’s flushed cheeks and shaking frame affects him — it’s too close to the way Steve looks in  _ other _ situations for it to not make Bucky’s head spin a little. 

“Steve, what’s going on?” Bucky asks with concern, pushing his other thoughts away. 

“Bathroom’s occupied,” Steve grits out. He sucks his bottom lip into his mouth and squirms, pain flashing across his face. His breathing is a little labored, Bucky notes carefully, but within the range that Bucky knows isn’t dangerous. 

Steve ducks his chin, long lashes splaying across his cheeks. He looks the way he does when Bucky pinches a careful line of red marks up his inner thighs, the way he does when he desperately needs to come and Bucky hasn’t given him permission. 

The world quiets, Bucky’s heart rate slows. God, but Steve’s fucking gorgeous like this, he thinks. Trying so hard and hurting so good, effort written into all the lines of his slim body. Steve’s flustered and embarrassed and Bucky  _ never  _ gets sick of the way his boy looks all red and shy like that. 

This scenario is tripping all sorts of things in Bucky’s brain, making him burn with want. He can’t help but whisper, “But you’re being good for me, aren’t you Stevie?” He puts a hand on the back of Steve’s neck, rubbing gently, scraping a nail over the delicate skin there. It’s where Steve’s collar rests when they’re home. Bucky always misses its presence when Steve has to take it off. The world doesn’t feel quite right again until Bucky can buckle it around his slim neck. 

Steve’s eyes flutter shut, and Bucky grins. “Yeah, Bucky. I’m being good.”

Bucky squeezes gently and Steve’s knees wobble. Bucky catches himself, realizing that Steve’s entirely too close to hitting headspace and Bucky can’t push him all the way there. “Easy. You can’t go down like that out here, Stevie. Just stay up until we’re done here and I’ll put you all the way down when we get back to the apartment.”

A small sigh escapes Steve’s lips and Bucky smiles, already filing away this information for another day. He’s never seen Steve go down so fast and be so responsive with so little effort on his part. 

“It hurts,” Steve whimpers. Pain always takes his boy down, Bucky knows, but they have to be careful. There aren’t too many ways Bucky can hurt Steve without risking his delicate health, which Bucky isn’t ever willing to do.

“Yeah? You need to go empty?” Bucky asks, eyes roving over Steve.

Steve reddens just like Bucky had hoped he would. “Yes, Bucky.”

Bucky spares a glance at the bathroom door, wondering how much longer Steve will be able to hold on. He’s probably got some really awful cramps, Bucky thinks, eyes flitting down to Steve’s midsection, fully hidden by the slightly too large shirt Steve is wearing. 

Bucky wishes he could crowd in and kiss Steve, rub his hand over Steve’s stomach, push and listen to Steve hiss and whine and fight for control. Fuck. Bucky’s hand tightens on the back of Steve’s neck. Maybe he could put Steve down on his knees, tell him to  _ be good  _ and  _ wait _ . 

Steve’s whole body shakes and he whimpers, “Bucky.” 

“Just a little longer,” Bucky urges, even though he can’t promise that. “I know it hurts. You’re doing a good job, Stevie. Takin’ real good care of yourself for me, aren’t you?”

Steve nods tremulously, eyes opening and meeting Bucky’s gaze. Bucky glances down the hall, wishing they had some privacy. Sure, everyone here knows Bucky doms for Steve, but that’s all they can know. Being drop partners is one thing — lovers is another. Some people in this neighborhood might understand, but there’s no knowing who’s to be trusted.  

Bucky’s half hard, he’s enjoying his boy’s suffering so much. He so desperately wants to be closer. 

“You’re gonna earn a reward,” Bucky says lowly, speaking into Steve’s good ear. “Being so good for me, sweetheart.” Steve groans and rocks forward on to his toes, then back again, hand going to his stomach. 

“It hurts real bad, Buck,” Steve admits and Bucky knows that the pain has to be pretty intense for Steve to admit to it like that. A little bit of worry cuts through the up rushing through Bucky’s brain. Bucky pinches the back of Steve’s neck to help distract him and Steve groans again, nodding gratefully. 

“I know, Stevie. Just hold on a few more minutes, okay? Be a good boy for me.” 

Steve firms up his jaw and nods, even as muscle tremors wrack his frame. Bucky turns away and takes two firm steps toward the bathroom door when Mr. Fitzgerald comes out, still doing up his belt and grumbling to himself. 

Bucky breathes a sigh of relief and turns toward Steve, who’s stumbling forward on shaky legs. He slams the door behind him as he goes in and Bucky leans back against the wall and takes a long, shaky breath. He slips his hand into his pocket and adjusts himself, so the tent he’s pitching isn’t  _ quite  _ as obvious. 

As he closes his eyes, Steve’s face — pained and flushed, embarrassed and needy — flashes through his mind. Fuck, but his boy looked so goddamn sweet like that. It usually took ages to work up to that sort of intensity when it came  _ any  _ sensation for Steve, ‘cause most things too fast could fuck with his breathing or his heart. 

This could have  _ potential,  _ Bucky thinks. It’s a little weird, sure, but they’re already pretty weird according to most folks, so what’s one more thing, right? The real tough part might be selling  _ Steve  _ on it. Steve fucking hates enemas and Bucky knows it. 

A few moments later, Steve stumbles out of the bathroom. He glances up at Bucky and blushes bright red. Bucky grins.

“C’mon Stevie,” Bucky cajoles, heading back to their apartment. Steve swallows tightly, but follows. Bucky’s mind races with possibilities for Steve’s reward, but he doesn’t say anything until they’re safely back in their apartment. 

Steve heads straight over to the sink to wash his hands, scrubbing with their cracked bar of soap. 

“C’mere, doll,” Bucky says as Steve dries his hands on the towel hanging in front of the sink. Steve keeps his gaze on the floor, face still pink, but does as he’s told. He’s clearly still in headspace and Bucky smiles widely. God, how’d he get so fuckin’ lucky? Bucky puts two fingers under Steve’s chin, coaxing his head up, and leans in to give him a long, filthy kiss. Steve whimpers into it, chest heaving as he sucks in breaths during Bucky’s carefully scheduled breaks. “So fuckin’ good for me,” Bucky mutters against his lip. “Looked so pretty, sweetheart. Cheeks all pink and hurtin’ like that, God, you don’t know what it does to me.” 

“Bucky,” Steve protests, but Bucky can tell that the whole event has had an affect on Steve too — beyond just his headspace. 

“Bedroom, now,” he orders. “Strip and kneel.”

Steve’s eyes go wide, but he nods silently and turns to obey. Bucky watches Steve go, breathing deep through his nose, letting himself go up where his focus narrows to Steve and the rest of the world falls away. He listens as Steve’s bony knees knock against the floor and then moves to the small cupboard by the sink where they keep the vaseline. 

Bucky opens it and leaves the lid on the counter. It’s funny now, how the texture and faint smell make him even harder just because he knows what it means. He grips himself through his pants and readjusts himself before walking into the bedroom. 

He walks around Steve, looking at him, naked and wanting. Steve’s slim cock strains up and his right hand clasps his left wrist at the small of his back. He doesn’t look up at Bucky, staying still just like he knows he’s supposed to do.

“Spread your legs wider,” Bucky orders.

Steve doesn’t unclasp his hands, but he manages to wiggle his legs out a few inches on either side. Bucky kneels behind him and dips his fingers into the vaseline. In the relative silence of the room, the jar seems to settle loudly on the wood floor. Steve flinches when Bucky’s fingers press against his hole, but he stays still and quiet as Bucky pushes in two at once.

He doesn’t have much in the way of muscle, but he has even less in the way of fat and Bucky can see where Steve tenses and flexes, trying so hard to be good, as Bucky works him open. If they started like this — this much, this fast — Steve might protest. But after his painful wait in the hall and Bucky’s gentle praise with his murmured promises of reward, Steve is already far enough down that what would be pain is already turning into pleasure. Bucky can push and push, and he knows that Steve will happily take it all. 

And Steve opens beautifully. He yields to Bucky in every way he could ask. 

Bucky pulls his fingers free and Steve suppresses most of a moan. “On the bed,” he orders.

Steve releases his grip and moves to crawl to the bed on hands and knees. Bucky watches as Steve climbs and then lays out, face down, over the duvet.

The temptation is there for something quick and dirty — a rough fucking, leaving his clothes on, reminding Steve whose sub he is. But Bucky also wants to give his good boy a reward, so he strips and slicks himself liberally with the vaseline. He climbs on the bed behind Steve and lays gentle kisses over his crooked spine, listening to Steve’s weak breath rattle in his chest as he gasps from the first skin-to-skin contact he’s gotten besides Bucky’s hands.

Bucky leans forward, reaching farther up Steve’s spine as he kisses, and his cock brushes against Steve’s ass. He uses his left hand to line himself up and he pushes in in a single smooth stroke. Steve’s whole body tenses, and he moans loudly, probably loud enough for the Adelmans to hear in the neighboring apartment. 

And Bucky knows they should be more careful, but hearing Steve sound like that is a rush every time. He breathes and settles, before reminding Steve to be quieter and more careful.

“Otherwise I’ll give you something to keep you quiet,” Bucky threatens.

It’s an empty threat and both of them know it. But Steve shudders with the thought and that’s good enough for Bucky. 

Steve’s cheek is pillowed on his hands, and Bucky leans his body out over Steve’s, taking his weight on his hands. From this angle he can thoroughly fuck Steve into the mattress while also having access to his back where he can leave bruise after bruise with his teeth. Steve arches like he’s going to fight every single one, but he doesn’t. 

By the time that Bucky comes, Steve’s shoulders and upper back are a mess of darkening welts. He’s moaning and shivering with want.

“Please, Bucky, please. I just want to come, please.”

Bucky takes a moment to catch his breath, running a hand over Steve’s side. “Easy, Stevie. I got you.”

Mustering up some coordination, Bucky manages to balance on his knees and heft Steve’s hips off the bed without pulling out — Steve always likes it best if Bucky’s still in him when he comes. Bucky slips a hand under, and begins to pull Steve off. 

It doesn’t take long before Steve’s warning him — such a good boy — that he’s about to come. Oversensitive and wrung out, Bucky hates the sensation of fucking after he’s come, but he knows it won’t take much to get Steve off so he grits his teeth and moves. He’s not hard anymore, but he’s still hard enough that Steve’s screaming Bucky’s name into the mattress in less than ten thrusts. Bucky works him through it before gently laying him back on the bed. 

“You’re gorgeous baby. So fucking gorgeous. Can’t believe you let me take you apart like this. And you were so good for me. You did just what I told you, and even though you didn’t want to, even though you were hurting standing out there in the hallway, you waited like a good boy and then you came back here and let me take you apart. So obedient. So good, Stevie,” Bucky soothes as he rubs light circles into Steve’s cheek with his thumb.

Steve turns his face into the touch and sighs, and Bucky’s heart clenches. He loves Steve, loves that he can he wring him out like a dishrag, loves that Steve will let him do the dirtiest things, and in the end it’s all softness. It’s all love. 

Bucky gets off the bed with soft reassurances that he’ll be right back. He pads out the sink to grab a rag, fills a glass of water, and snags a small chunk of bread from the bread box. By the time he gets back, Steve is already asleep, snoring softly on his stomach. Chuckling, Bucky rolls him to his side where he can breathe better and cleans him up. 

There’s no way he’s gonna be able to get the food and water in Steve like his, so he just sits on the edge of the bed. It’s quiet in the apartment. There’s a muffled sound of shouting from the Jones’ apartment, but that’s a given. But other than that there’s just Steve. His snoring is quieter on his side and Bucky listens to each breath, watching the tenuous rise and fall of Steve’s chest. 

It’s always the best thing Bucky thinks he’s ever seen — Steve just relaxed and breathing. Bucky runs his fingers through Steve’s hair and bends down, softly kissing the corner of Steve’s right eye. 

“Love you, punk,” he whispers.

Steve reaches out and grabs blindly at Bucky, pulling him close, and Bucky goes willingly, curling under the blankets and wrapping himself around Steve. Their apartment is cold, they barely have enough money for food, and herding Steve is like herding wet cats on the best of days, but even with all of that Bucky can’t help but be grateful. He’s not sure anyone else has ever gotten as lucky as he has, and he thanks god for it every day.

**Author's Note:**

> Strangely enough, enemas were the first line of defense in general healthcare for a long time, even up into the 1920s and 1930s. It's easily imaginable that poor, sickly Steve was subjected to a lot of them growing up.


End file.
